Are You My Mother?
It was a book I had when I was a kid. "Are You My Mother?" was a story about a baby bird born while his Mother went to get food for the anticipated egg evacuation. The baby bird struck out to find his Mother and everyone who he came across, animal or machine, he asked the same question. Finally he is delivered back to the nest by an unlikely source just in time for his Mother to return with a worm for him to eat. All's well that ends well, right?
There was a 27 year journey as I asked essentially the same question. I needed to find out where I came from. I needed to discover my roots. It was a journey with highs and lows, but it culminated in the discovery of 10 amazing siblings. As a result, I feel rich beyond comprehension.
If I didn't state it in my last post, I will here. I'm grateful for the wonderful upbringing I was granted. I had two of the best parents anyone could want. So many people told me as I was growing up how lucky I was that I was chosen. "My parents had to take what they got, you were chosen." Please don't say that to someone who is adopted. While the intentions are good and pure, it may or may not be received as intended. While the sentiment isn't exactly false, it doesn't take away the fact that the adoptee was unwanted by someone, regardless of the reason. There is an internal void, conscious at times, most of the time unconscious. And there is pain. Most of the time it's an unconscious pain. What do we frequently do with pain? We medicate to alleviate pain. Most adoptees I've known, including myself, medicate that pain. It may be with medication. Drugs, alcohol, eating, gambling, sex, shopping, spending...there are endless ways we try to dull the ache. It's not an excuse for bad behavior, it's a reason. Again, most of the time, the pain is unconscious.
When I began my search, I knew I needed to check my motivations and expectations. I spent time reading the very sparse resources that were available at the time. I took notes and prepped myself for all possibilities. There was a very real possibility that I could again be rejected. I understood that possibility, however. I tried putting myself in the shoes of the parties I could encounter in the search. On the opposite end of the spectrum, I could find biological family that would want me to forsake my adopted status for a 'second chance'. I knew that if either side or both had found a measure of success in life, they could assume my motivation was to expect to cash in on that success. Or I could find extreme poverty and feel compelled to take on too much to help...or be expected to do so. I felt like I was as ready as I could possibly be. I had no other motivation or expectation than to find out who I am.
Kansas at the time was one of a handful of states with open records, meaning I could obtain a copy of my original birth certificate. I had the name of my birth mother and birth father. Ok. We're getting somewhere. When I began the search process, it was before the internet had really become effective in such matters, so most of the initial search was by phone and US postal service. I found a group in Kansas that helps adult adoptees in the search for their roots. I honestly can't remember the order in which the following events took place, but two things happened as a result. I did some research because I knew my birth father's name wouldn't change, while my bio mom's name could if they were no longer together. I found the address for my birth father in Wichita. This would make it easier!
I eventually set up a meeting with him in Wichita. I made the trip from Oklahoma and we arranged to meet in a restaurant there in the metro area. As we met, it quickly became evident that he was not my birth father. His name had been added to the birth certificate as the father, but he was not. He did, however give me names of my bio mom's siblings and their children's names. I had 2 siblings! A brother and a sister. It seems as if she had an affair between the time the brother and sister were born, but he wasn't sure who the father was. He had caught her with the divorce attorney and knew that she had a thing for Air Force captains at the local air base. That narrows it down!
Around the same time (again, I can't recall if it was before or after the meeting with her ex) that the adoptee group working with me found my bio mom and wanted to know if I wanted them to reach out to her on my behalf. Well, this was what it was all about so I consented. At that point I was really glad I had prepared for anything. The response was anything but welcoming or heartwarming. It was a second rejection. She was offended that I had reached out and interrupted her life with the inquiry. To say that I was deflated would be an understatement. On the one hand I knew it could happen. On the other hand, I may not have fully expected that reaction.
All was not lost. I had names. I had aunts and uncles. I had two siblings. Again, I'm not certain of the order of events now...now I'm wishing I had kept better records of events. I searched for locations of other relatives. Aunt Cheryl was one of the first ones I could find. I contacted her and arranged a meeting with her. She was gracious enough to invite me to her home. When we met, I was welcomed with open arms. She had some recollection of our existence, though my bio mom had tried to hide her pregnancy from her parents and some of her siblings. I'd have to say that successfully concealing a pregnancy from them was a feat as she carried twins at 6 lbs 11 oz and 7 lbs 1 oz! That's a lot of baby to conceal. Aunt Cheryl had a sister living with her at the time, and they were gracious enough for me to grill them for a few hours as I learned some about my roots. Aunt Cheryl remains as one of my favorite aunts to this day.
I still wanted to see if I could find my siblings. Some time passed after the wonderful redeeming visit with my aunts. I knew my brother's name was Greg. I had some assistance finding some contact information for Greg, and I took a few deep breaths and finally reached out to him via telephone call. Again, I was pleasantly surprised. My brother was welcoming and warm, not fully surprised and was willing to set up contact with our sister. Phone calls and photo swaps ensued. It was amazing. It was as if we had talked before. Nothing awkward or uncomfortable. I had nieces and nephews as a bonus.
Life interfered and we didn't stay in touch. I know it may sound strange since I was so driven to find get intel on my roots. You may be wondering about the bio dad's side of the equation. That remained a mystery. No one knew and the bio mom either wasn't sure or wasn't giving up the information. So on that front I remained clueless.
Again, I'm really not certain what drove it, but around 2011 I wanted to pursue meeting my siblings. Greg lived in San Antonio and my sister in Ohio. We met with our families and had a fantastic time meeting, catching up, making up for lost time, eating, sightseeing, and beginning a relationship that will hopefully continue til I leave this mudball called earth. Two years later, I'd meet another brother, Dave. Another sister, I've yet to meet. Later, in 2018, we'd find out about another brother who was given up for adoption. I've yet to meet Brett, but we've connected and found we're definitely brothers.
The other half of the equation, the biological father side, was a bit more of a challenge. The bio mom either didn't know for sure or simply wasn't giving up any information on that topic. There has been a standing joke for me throughout the course of the search. People naturally have questions when they find out I've searched for my biological roots. I tell them what I know, and the next logical question is to ask about my biological father. My standard reply was to say, "I don't really know much about him at this point, but one thing I was told is that he's black." I'd say it with as straight a poker face as I could muster. "Really??" was my favorite reply. Yep, pasty white, dirty blonde hair guy is half black.
Thank God for the advent of DNA tests for the purposes of genealogical research. Ancestry was the first to collect my sample o' spit. One of the first discoveries after results were posted was the ethnicity estimates. English with a touch of Norwegian and Scot, and ironically a very small percentage of African. I KNEW it!! When it came down to DNA matches with relatives it was a bit different. Many 2nd through 6th cousins were showing up. I recognized a few surnames from the search on my bio mom's side, but alas, there wasn't anything showing up that was a close enough relative that I could pinpoint as being on the other side. I did reach out to 2 or 3 who were listed as second cousins. I had to remember the things I learned when approaching 'strangers' with the information that I was put up for adoption as a newborn and the possible uproar it could cause with unaware family members. The last thing I wanted to do was create chaos in either one of the families. I made inquiries with some I didn't recognize as being from the biological mom's side, doing so as delicately as possible with no luck.
Then in the summer of 2018, a relative showed up with whom I shared a significant amount of DNA. Could it be? I contacted Vicky who could have been an aunt or a half sibling with size of the match. I messaged her through Ancestry and found she had a very similar story. She too was adopted at birth and there was some Air Force connections there as well. The one very significant thing we shared in common was...neither of us knew or had any clue who our biological father was. We did, deduce, however, that we were connected through my birth father's DNA. I had found my first aunt or half sister on his side! Neither of us could know for sure which it would be. Due to similar ages, we were fairly sure we were half siblings.
We talked on the phone, got to know each other a bit better, shared our stories with each other, and continued watching for new matches and contacting those people. Six months passed with no results. Then in January of this year, two new matches showed up with a significant level of matching DNA. It was evident that they weren't from the biological mother's side, rather, they shared DNA with both Vicky and I on my biological father's side. Due to the age, I deduced that had to be a niece and nephew of one of my siblings. I attempted a fairly tame email message through Ancestry with no reply. I sensed I was close so I needed to try everything I could to make some connections. I had names and I had Facebook. Thankfully a combination of matching profile pictures between Facebook and Ancestry, I found both Breanna and Tyler's Facebook accounts. With a little bit of stalki.....I mean....detective work, I found their Mom's Facebook account.
I sent a FB message to Karen. Within a few minutes of dialogue, we both realized that her husband Chuck is my brother, Vicky is my sister, and our dad's name was Bob. Unfortunately he passed away in 2011, so there would be no meeting, but finally I knew. I also found out about 2 more sisters and on more brother. Holy cow! I had gone from two brothers, one of them being obviously the only biological family I had known for years to an additional TEN!
To Greg, Shelley, Brett, Dave, Chrisa, Chuck, Vicky, Greg, Pam, and Peggy...thanks for your warm welcome extended to me with open arms. Aunt Cheryl and Don Lego get a huge thank you as well for being forthcoming with information up front which helped tremendously in my search. There are also several aunts, uncles, and cousins on both sides I've met who have been warm, loving, welcoming, and extremely kind. And thanks to my Dad who raised me for giving me permission to look.
Last weekend I was able to meet Peggy and Vicky for the first time. We shared the moving experience of burying our father's ashes by a new headstone his siblings purchased for him. I also got to meet Aunt Lucy, Uncles Herb, Bud, and Bobby, as well as some cousins. What an amazing meeting that was. It's very surreal when you look into the eyes of people you're actually related to. Before meeting, or communicating in any way, I could have met them in passing, lived next door to them. I always had the fear that anyone I dated could be a sister or a cousin...some relative. That was a legitimate fear and was always in the back of my mind causing me to vet more than the average person would. Before contact they were complete strangers. But upon meeting, and this part is very inexplicable, it was as if we'd known each other for years. There was a vague familiarity, a 'knowing' of these former strangers. And as I finally found the other half of the roots of my biological tree, a conscious feeling of healing began deep in my soul which was described in one of the books I read early on as a "primal scream". Now I have a history beyond myself and my sudden appearance on this planet. I have a health history (it's quite clean according to my 23 and Me health report).
It's been quite a journey. I have no regrets for embarking. I believe I'm healthier for the journey. Thankfully having no real expectations at the outset, it was successful. I'm looking forward to fostering these new relationships with a huge group of brothers and sisters and their families. And to bring it back around full circle, I'm grateful beyond my ability to articulate for my parents who decided to take in some unwanted kiddos and raise them in a loving home, teaching us so many necessary life skills to prepare us for our independent journeys. I couldn't have hand picked two better parents, and couldn't be more proud to have taken on their last name. While I'm finding that Sewell is definitely a name to be proud of, Dougherty is the one I proudly carry and pass on to my sons, their wives, and grandchildren. FG
There was a 27 year journey as I asked essentially the same question. I needed to find out where I came from. I needed to discover my roots. It was a journey with highs and lows, but it culminated in the discovery of 10 amazing siblings. As a result, I feel rich beyond comprehension.
If I didn't state it in my last post, I will here. I'm grateful for the wonderful upbringing I was granted. I had two of the best parents anyone could want. So many people told me as I was growing up how lucky I was that I was chosen. "My parents had to take what they got, you were chosen." Please don't say that to someone who is adopted. While the intentions are good and pure, it may or may not be received as intended. While the sentiment isn't exactly false, it doesn't take away the fact that the adoptee was unwanted by someone, regardless of the reason. There is an internal void, conscious at times, most of the time unconscious. And there is pain. Most of the time it's an unconscious pain. What do we frequently do with pain? We medicate to alleviate pain. Most adoptees I've known, including myself, medicate that pain. It may be with medication. Drugs, alcohol, eating, gambling, sex, shopping, spending...there are endless ways we try to dull the ache. It's not an excuse for bad behavior, it's a reason. Again, most of the time, the pain is unconscious.
When I began my search, I knew I needed to check my motivations and expectations. I spent time reading the very sparse resources that were available at the time. I took notes and prepped myself for all possibilities. There was a very real possibility that I could again be rejected. I understood that possibility, however. I tried putting myself in the shoes of the parties I could encounter in the search. On the opposite end of the spectrum, I could find biological family that would want me to forsake my adopted status for a 'second chance'. I knew that if either side or both had found a measure of success in life, they could assume my motivation was to expect to cash in on that success. Or I could find extreme poverty and feel compelled to take on too much to help...or be expected to do so. I felt like I was as ready as I could possibly be. I had no other motivation or expectation than to find out who I am.
Kansas at the time was one of a handful of states with open records, meaning I could obtain a copy of my original birth certificate. I had the name of my birth mother and birth father. Ok. We're getting somewhere. When I began the search process, it was before the internet had really become effective in such matters, so most of the initial search was by phone and US postal service. I found a group in Kansas that helps adult adoptees in the search for their roots. I honestly can't remember the order in which the following events took place, but two things happened as a result. I did some research because I knew my birth father's name wouldn't change, while my bio mom's name could if they were no longer together. I found the address for my birth father in Wichita. This would make it easier!
I eventually set up a meeting with him in Wichita. I made the trip from Oklahoma and we arranged to meet in a restaurant there in the metro area. As we met, it quickly became evident that he was not my birth father. His name had been added to the birth certificate as the father, but he was not. He did, however give me names of my bio mom's siblings and their children's names. I had 2 siblings! A brother and a sister. It seems as if she had an affair between the time the brother and sister were born, but he wasn't sure who the father was. He had caught her with the divorce attorney and knew that she had a thing for Air Force captains at the local air base. That narrows it down!
Around the same time (again, I can't recall if it was before or after the meeting with her ex) that the adoptee group working with me found my bio mom and wanted to know if I wanted them to reach out to her on my behalf. Well, this was what it was all about so I consented. At that point I was really glad I had prepared for anything. The response was anything but welcoming or heartwarming. It was a second rejection. She was offended that I had reached out and interrupted her life with the inquiry. To say that I was deflated would be an understatement. On the one hand I knew it could happen. On the other hand, I may not have fully expected that reaction.
All was not lost. I had names. I had aunts and uncles. I had two siblings. Again, I'm not certain of the order of events now...now I'm wishing I had kept better records of events. I searched for locations of other relatives. Aunt Cheryl was one of the first ones I could find. I contacted her and arranged a meeting with her. She was gracious enough to invite me to her home. When we met, I was welcomed with open arms. She had some recollection of our existence, though my bio mom had tried to hide her pregnancy from her parents and some of her siblings. I'd have to say that successfully concealing a pregnancy from them was a feat as she carried twins at 6 lbs 11 oz and 7 lbs 1 oz! That's a lot of baby to conceal. Aunt Cheryl had a sister living with her at the time, and they were gracious enough for me to grill them for a few hours as I learned some about my roots. Aunt Cheryl remains as one of my favorite aunts to this day.
I still wanted to see if I could find my siblings. Some time passed after the wonderful redeeming visit with my aunts. I knew my brother's name was Greg. I had some assistance finding some contact information for Greg, and I took a few deep breaths and finally reached out to him via telephone call. Again, I was pleasantly surprised. My brother was welcoming and warm, not fully surprised and was willing to set up contact with our sister. Phone calls and photo swaps ensued. It was amazing. It was as if we had talked before. Nothing awkward or uncomfortable. I had nieces and nephews as a bonus.
Life interfered and we didn't stay in touch. I know it may sound strange since I was so driven to find get intel on my roots. You may be wondering about the bio dad's side of the equation. That remained a mystery. No one knew and the bio mom either wasn't sure or wasn't giving up the information. So on that front I remained clueless.
Again, I'm really not certain what drove it, but around 2011 I wanted to pursue meeting my siblings. Greg lived in San Antonio and my sister in Ohio. We met with our families and had a fantastic time meeting, catching up, making up for lost time, eating, sightseeing, and beginning a relationship that will hopefully continue til I leave this mudball called earth. Two years later, I'd meet another brother, Dave. Another sister, I've yet to meet. Later, in 2018, we'd find out about another brother who was given up for adoption. I've yet to meet Brett, but we've connected and found we're definitely brothers.
The other half of the equation, the biological father side, was a bit more of a challenge. The bio mom either didn't know for sure or simply wasn't giving up any information on that topic. There has been a standing joke for me throughout the course of the search. People naturally have questions when they find out I've searched for my biological roots. I tell them what I know, and the next logical question is to ask about my biological father. My standard reply was to say, "I don't really know much about him at this point, but one thing I was told is that he's black." I'd say it with as straight a poker face as I could muster. "Really??" was my favorite reply. Yep, pasty white, dirty blonde hair guy is half black.
Thank God for the advent of DNA tests for the purposes of genealogical research. Ancestry was the first to collect my sample o' spit. One of the first discoveries after results were posted was the ethnicity estimates. English with a touch of Norwegian and Scot, and ironically a very small percentage of African. I KNEW it!! When it came down to DNA matches with relatives it was a bit different. Many 2nd through 6th cousins were showing up. I recognized a few surnames from the search on my bio mom's side, but alas, there wasn't anything showing up that was a close enough relative that I could pinpoint as being on the other side. I did reach out to 2 or 3 who were listed as second cousins. I had to remember the things I learned when approaching 'strangers' with the information that I was put up for adoption as a newborn and the possible uproar it could cause with unaware family members. The last thing I wanted to do was create chaos in either one of the families. I made inquiries with some I didn't recognize as being from the biological mom's side, doing so as delicately as possible with no luck.
Then in the summer of 2018, a relative showed up with whom I shared a significant amount of DNA. Could it be? I contacted Vicky who could have been an aunt or a half sibling with size of the match. I messaged her through Ancestry and found she had a very similar story. She too was adopted at birth and there was some Air Force connections there as well. The one very significant thing we shared in common was...neither of us knew or had any clue who our biological father was. We did, deduce, however, that we were connected through my birth father's DNA. I had found my first aunt or half sister on his side! Neither of us could know for sure which it would be. Due to similar ages, we were fairly sure we were half siblings.
We talked on the phone, got to know each other a bit better, shared our stories with each other, and continued watching for new matches and contacting those people. Six months passed with no results. Then in January of this year, two new matches showed up with a significant level of matching DNA. It was evident that they weren't from the biological mother's side, rather, they shared DNA with both Vicky and I on my biological father's side. Due to the age, I deduced that had to be a niece and nephew of one of my siblings. I attempted a fairly tame email message through Ancestry with no reply. I sensed I was close so I needed to try everything I could to make some connections. I had names and I had Facebook. Thankfully a combination of matching profile pictures between Facebook and Ancestry, I found both Breanna and Tyler's Facebook accounts. With a little bit of stalki.....I mean....detective work, I found their Mom's Facebook account.
I sent a FB message to Karen. Within a few minutes of dialogue, we both realized that her husband Chuck is my brother, Vicky is my sister, and our dad's name was Bob. Unfortunately he passed away in 2011, so there would be no meeting, but finally I knew. I also found out about 2 more sisters and on more brother. Holy cow! I had gone from two brothers, one of them being obviously the only biological family I had known for years to an additional TEN!
To Greg, Shelley, Brett, Dave, Chrisa, Chuck, Vicky, Greg, Pam, and Peggy...thanks for your warm welcome extended to me with open arms. Aunt Cheryl and Don Lego get a huge thank you as well for being forthcoming with information up front which helped tremendously in my search. There are also several aunts, uncles, and cousins on both sides I've met who have been warm, loving, welcoming, and extremely kind. And thanks to my Dad who raised me for giving me permission to look.
Last weekend I was able to meet Peggy and Vicky for the first time. We shared the moving experience of burying our father's ashes by a new headstone his siblings purchased for him. I also got to meet Aunt Lucy, Uncles Herb, Bud, and Bobby, as well as some cousins. What an amazing meeting that was. It's very surreal when you look into the eyes of people you're actually related to. Before meeting, or communicating in any way, I could have met them in passing, lived next door to them. I always had the fear that anyone I dated could be a sister or a cousin...some relative. That was a legitimate fear and was always in the back of my mind causing me to vet more than the average person would. Before contact they were complete strangers. But upon meeting, and this part is very inexplicable, it was as if we'd known each other for years. There was a vague familiarity, a 'knowing' of these former strangers. And as I finally found the other half of the roots of my biological tree, a conscious feeling of healing began deep in my soul which was described in one of the books I read early on as a "primal scream". Now I have a history beyond myself and my sudden appearance on this planet. I have a health history (it's quite clean according to my 23 and Me health report).
It's been quite a journey. I have no regrets for embarking. I believe I'm healthier for the journey. Thankfully having no real expectations at the outset, it was successful. I'm looking forward to fostering these new relationships with a huge group of brothers and sisters and their families. And to bring it back around full circle, I'm grateful beyond my ability to articulate for my parents who decided to take in some unwanted kiddos and raise them in a loving home, teaching us so many necessary life skills to prepare us for our independent journeys. I couldn't have hand picked two better parents, and couldn't be more proud to have taken on their last name. While I'm finding that Sewell is definitely a name to be proud of, Dougherty is the one I proudly carry and pass on to my sons, their wives, and grandchildren. FG
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